Tag Archives: 🦋 Poetry Mix

Little White Dove

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Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Mantled in whispers of cloud,
Little white dove blissfully endowed.

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Softy embracing a heavenly tone,
Fly little white dove in skies unknown.

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Little white dove rises beyond the dance,
Through the power of a rhythmic trance.

© Chrissy Siggee

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No Miracle Cure (a re-write)

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What came naturally is no more
and now I need to find my way.
Chronic illness stole my life
and left me in this place.

I can’t explain fatigue and pain
nor even how I feel.
I'm just needing time to rest –
Rest enough to be restored.

Is there any kind of normal?
I’ll be needing hope there is.
All I need is understanding - 
In the meantime, let me heal.

My inner strength is hard to find
on days I cannot fight alone.
And to those who say do this do that –
There is no miracle cure.

If by chance you read this far,
I really need your support and prayers.
Thank you, friend, it's what I need
To get me through the months ahead.

Chrissy Siggee - September 2025

Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix & 🦋 Living with Chronic Illness

No Miracle Cure

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What came naturally is no longer
and now I’m finding my way.
Chronic illness steals your life from you
and replaces it with pain.

I can’t explain this pain and fatigue;
friends and family drift away.
It’s just days on end of finding rest –
Rest enough to be restored.

Is there some kind of normality?
I’m needing hope that there is.
It will simply take time, lots of time.
In the meantime, let me heal.

My inner courage is hard to find
on days where all strength is gone.
And to those who say do this do that –
There is no miracle cure.

© Chrissy Siggee – September 2025

Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix & 🦋 Living with Chronic Illness

DAWN – Awaken the Senses

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Dawn illuminates the sky

                  caressing the trees

Songs of the birds fill my ears

                  and slumber from my eyes

The crispness in the air

                 awakens the senses.

© Chrissy Siggee

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
From my book: Glimpses of His Glory

under copyright:

https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/catalog/4537869

Archived in:  🦋 Christian Reads  &  🦋 Poetry Mix

Fire in the Sky

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The heavens are ablaze with orange embers
Splinters of steel-grey clouds pierce the radiance
Wisps of haze emerge like smoky smudges
Summer’s twilight heat affects the changing light
Fiery reflections shimmer against the fading hues
Like a fire in the sky, the sun melts into the horizon.

© Chrissy Siggee

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Me and My Writing….

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I don’t care what people say
It’s time to look the other way.
If I want to write – I will
with or without a copyright.

Poems, fiction and mysteries,
for children and adults.
Whatever takes my fancy – oh yeah…
It’s what I like to do.

My grammar may not be perfect
and rhyme is not my forte
But whatever I write –
I write with all my heart.

Grandchildren love my nonsense,
Friends enjoy a jingle.
I only write for them and those
Who enjoy my writing most.

© Chrissy Siggee – 2018

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Why…Don’t…I…

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Why is it that when I plan to spend time writing, I’m needed by everybody?

Why is it that when I’m relaxing, someone wants something?

Why is it when I’m sleeping that someone phones me?

Why is it that when I’m about to eat, there’s a knock on the door?

Why is it that when I want to shut down the computer, an email/ message comes in?

Don’t get me wrong, I do get to write…

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to help…

Don’t get me wrong, I love people who phone…

Don’t get me wrong, I love having visitors…

Don’t get me wrong, there are only spam emails I dislike…

I just wish at times I have more time to write.

I just wish at times I had superpowers.

I just wish at times I could answer in my sleep.

I just wish at times people come earlier and eat with me.

I just wish at times my computer answers emails for me.

by me: Chrissy Siggee

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There’s Nought to Fear

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Some things don’t feel right.
Unpleasant confrontations generate a mood of sadness.
Shivers torment already traumatised nerves,
like fingernails dragged across a blackboard.
Yet, there’s nought to fear.

Some things are not right.
Hostility clutches hold with naive dishonesties
and confusion creeps in with unsuspected lies.
Cold fingers of fear grip with malicious rumours.
Yet, there’s nought to fear.

Some things are never right.
Malice and corruption run amok in a violated world
with greed and self-absorption taking hold.
Unpredicted anguish and hearts full of darkness.
Yet, there’s nought to fear.

Some things can be made right.
Terrors of the night flee with the promise of the sunrise.
Integrity re-established to transform thoughts
to benefit the practice of honest, uncorrupted lives.
Yes, there’s nought to fear.

© Chrissy Siggee -2019

Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix

Mourning

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Sixty days she walked alone,
counting memories along the way.
She stumbled every now and then
but knew she couldn’t fall.
Her mind was full of images;
her heart was full of grief.
Too many nights alone,
many days that would not end.

Now she sits on her garden seat,
bought together one summer’s day.
Tears spilled down her cheeks
lost in a world without her Paul.
She knows her life must go on;
her mind still filled with disbelief.
With every breath it hurt,
alone, she could comprehend.

One day she’ll fall in love once more,
with a restored heart to give away.
For now, she lives with memories
that she cannot help recall.
His presence’s felt all around;
memories bring fruitless relief.
Worst of all, no doubt about it,
she had lost her very best friend.

Autumn leaves fall to the ground,
like the tears they portray.
Her face stings with salty wetness—
she wipes them away with assurance.
She’ll face new challenges boldly;
yet still, sorrow will not be brief.
Time will heal and life will go on,
and her mourning heart will mend.

© Chrissy Siggee – 2019

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

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Pretty Bird

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IMG_0142-imp.jpg

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Back in early 2019 when we lived in Sydney, we often witnessed victimisation and bullying in nature, and birds were no exception. Across from our house was an open green area with a scattering of trees. A neighbour had donated a birdbath for the birds to enjoy and many residents would encourage the birds to hang around by feeding them. Usually the same variety of birds would gather together at various times during the day. Sometimes stragglers were left from a previous flock and fighting often breakout with loud screeches and squawks. Usually, it was the same breed who fought among themselves but this pretty bird flew in alone. By the time I set up my camera he had had a drink and was moving awkwardly up the branch of a jacaranda tree. That’s when I noticed how battered he looked. Where there should have been brilliantly blue feathers on his head they were quite dark and ruffled. His belly feathers were partly missing. He may have been just old but in this case he was more likely to have been an escaped caged bird and had recently been in a fight with native birds who didn’t appreciate his arrival.

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Cherished Memories – by Sandra Siggee

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In the depths of our hearts – a love so true

a bond unbreakable, my dear, it’s you.

Mum, you are the light that guides our way

though you may be gone, in our hearts you will stay.

***

In that vast world where you now reside;

a place unknown, where angels abide.

We wonder if we’ll see your face again,

our uncertainty lingers like a gentle refrain.

***

Yet, we find solace in knowing you are near,

watching over us with a love so clear.

Your gentle whispers are like an unseen breeze,

with comfort and peace to put our hearts at ease.

***

Though we yearn for the day we will again unite

in this earthly realm, or beyond the light,

we know our love for you will never fade,  

and through the passage of time it will cascade.

***

Mum, we cherish the memories we hold,

the laughter, the tears, the stories untold.

You shaped our lives in ways we cannot express

and in our souls, your spirit finds its caress.

***

We love you, Mum. Forever we’ll proclaim!

Your spirit lives on, ablaze like a flame.

Though you may be gone, we’ll never part

for you’ll always reside within our hearts.

***

So, until the day we meet again

we’ll carry your love like a guiding pen.

You will forever remain in our thoughts and dreams

A cherished presence stitched into life’s seams.

Written by Sandra Siggee

Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix

Seeking Love – by Sandra Siggee

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In pages worn and yellowed, tales of old,

I seek solace, where legends’ stories are told.

But amidst the myths and lures of the past,

I find myself yearning for something that will last.

***

I long to journey with you hand in hand,

To chase dreams, taking risks, across the land.

Together, we’ll seek the one who understands,

A companion, a soul, like the tales demand.

***

For in these ancient books, I find a yearning,

A desire for a connection, a heart’s true turning.

Someone to lean on, someone who will be,

The very embodiment of the tale’s decree.

***

Oh, bring me someone to turn to, to trust,

A person whose presence I’ll forever adjust.

A kindred spirit, a love that can’t be missed,

Something just like this, a love I insist.

***

So let’s write our own legend, you and I,

With words of passion, beneath the starry sky.

Together we’ll create a story so grand,

A tale of love, fate’s gentle guiding hand.

***

In this world of old books and fables untold,

Let’s weave a story, a love to unfold.

For I desire someone who’ll make my heart twist,

Someone like you, my dear, something just like this.

Written by Sandra Siggee

In Shadows of Love – by Sandra Siggee

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In shadows of love, I once found solace,

But now I stand in heartbreak’s embrace.

A tale of betrayal, my soul left shattered

As love’s sweet melody turns bitter and tattered.

***

Once, your affection was a flame so bright,

But now it flickers, consumed by the night.

In disbelief, I watch our love erode

As secrets unravel, truths are now bestowed.

***

Tears stain my cheeks, a river of pain

For love’s betrayal leaves an eternal stain.

How could you wander, my heart’s trusted guide?

Into the arms of another, casting me aside?

***

The whispers of deceit, they cut so deep,

As trust crumbles, a wound that won’t sleep.

In the wreckage of love, I search for reasons

But find only echoes of love’s faded seasons.

***

Yet, through this heartbreak, I’ll rise anew,

Reclaiming my spirit, bidding love adieu.

For I deserve a love that’s pure, untamed,

Not one tainted by deceit falsely claimed.

***

So, I’ll heal the wounds, stitch up the pain,

Learn to love myself, and rise again.

Though scars may linger, I’ll find my way,

And let heartbreak’s darkness turn to brighter days.

***

For in the depths of loss, I’ll find my might

And from this heartbreak, I’ll take flight.

No longer bound by love’s treacherous game,

I’ll soar beyond the ashes, reclaiming my flame.

***

Written by Sandra Siggee

The Smell of Death Lingers

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The Smell of Death Lingers

The smell of death lingers –
It lingers in the bedroom
and in the dining room.
But, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life—
Even the weeds share their aroma.

The smell of death lingers—
Odours cannot be shaken
it's everywhere I go.
But, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life—
Even the weeds share their aroma.

The smell of death lingers—
It lingers on my clothing
every breath smothers me.
But, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life—
Even the weeds share their aroma.

The smell of death lingers—
Until life yields into death
to finds its final path.
And, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life—
Even the weeds share their aroma.

Chrissy Siggee July 2021

Archived in: Poetry Mix

Riverside Peace (the poem)

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There’s something about a river
that draws me to its side
Effortlessly advancing
toward a lake or sea.

With an abundance of freshness
it’s filled with life and health
Uninterrupted flowing
beyond the distant fields.

From gentle humble beginnings
– a fact of life itself
Amazingly appealing
amid a lonely past.

Whispers of the river embrace
the peace renews my mind
Majestically embracing
yonder pathways I see.

© Chrissy Siggee

Archived in: 🦋  Poetry Mix

Desperate Decisions

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He gazed upward to the stars
counting sadness and his woes—
Deep wrinkles creased his brow,
he stands alone and ponders life.

It took one selfish moment
for his wealth to slip away—
Gambling is a fool’s game,
he wonders how he can regain.

Not one dollar he had left.
No income, no means to pay—
His house and car are gone,
He contemplates to end his life.

His wife, his son — he failed.
Nothing left to support them—
Life is not worth living!
He stepped out into the traffic…

Horns blast
Tyres skid
Thud

He stares upward into lights
muffled voices all around—
Deep wrinkles crossed his brow,
he marvels why he’s still alive.

It took one thoughtful moment…
Why would strangers save his life?
Two strong hands pulled him back,
he tried to rub a sore behind.

“Sir, not one bone did you break.
You hit the grass — not the truck—
There’s two people you should thank
and give them the trust they deserve.”

Wife and son approached his bed.
“Why did you return?” he asked—
“My debts won’t go away!”
He couldn’t bear to hurt them more.

Tears flowed
Misery
Dread

He gazed upward into hope
given now a second chance—
Deep wrinkles shaped his brow,
he reaches out and asks for help.

It took a year of meetings
learning how to take control—
Took years to pay his debts;
he found a job and stuck with it.

Desperate decisions made
difficult times they endured—
Early starts, long night shifts,
he finally forgave himself.

His wife and son stood by him,
nothing fancy they could own—
Probably never will.
But what they have is worth far more.

True love
Forgiveness
Trust

© Chrissy Siggee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

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A Fly called Mable

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There once was a fly called Mable,
whose life was quite unstable.
You see, she lived in Humpty Doo
where they loved their barbecues
but often drank flies in their booze.

Chrissy Siggee 2020

(Note: Humpty Doo is a small town approximately 40 kms from Darwin, Northern Territory Australia)

Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix